


Scaramanga's Revenge

by storm_of_sharp_things



Series: The Quest for Q [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Community: MI6 Cafe | mi6_cafe, Crack, M/M, MI6 Cafe Choose Your Own Adventure April, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: MI6 Cafe Choose Your Own Adventure April!The quest continues...We start with#5 - Scaramanga’s Revenge:Write in a fic style new to you (ie epistolary, poetry, non-linear, etc)James and Alec enter Q's dream and head for a mysterious volcanic island to the southeast...
Relationships: James Bond/Q/Alec Trevelyan
Series: The Quest for Q [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690834
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15
Collections: MI6 Cafe Collections





	Scaramanga's Revenge

**Scaramanga’s Revenge**

James blinked and looked around, trying to make sense of his environment. He was steering a speedboat out into open water with Alec in the other seat, clutching the map. Behind them, a citadel that resembled MI6 towered over a tiny coastal port town.

“There’s an big island to the southeast!” Alec shouted over the noise of the boat cutting through the water. “According to the map, it looks like there might be a harbour on the south side!”

“What’s the task there?” Bond shouted back, frowning into the distance.

Alec flipped the map over and scanned down the numbered list. “It’s called Scaramanga’s Revenge and it says ‘Write in a fic style new to you (ie epistolary, poetry, non-linear, etc).’”

There was a long silence as they both considered that.

Eventually, James glanced over at him. “How does this even work? Is Scaramanga going to be on the island? Do we have to fight him again? I already shot him once.”

“You did IRL,” Alec retorted.

“What could Scaramanga’s _revenge_ possibly be?” James demanded in exasperation.

“Besides a song by the Freakniks off their 1996 dance/electronic album Under the Sun? I haven’t the faintest idea, you twit.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do _we_ have to write whatever’s required?”

Alec gave him a Look and rolled the map up, stowing it safely in a case. “What makes you think _I_ know?”

“You knew about the damn song!”

“Because I like to go out and do fun things like dance at clubs! I don’t just sit around and mope over my various romantic debacles!”

James reached for the knife he always kept on him and Alec laughed, sprawling comfortably in his seat, scanning the horizon. “James, we’ll do what we always do.”

“So the plan is to figure it out when we get there.”

Alec gave him an affectionate grin. “Of course!”

James sighed and steered toward what looked like a volcano rising up to the southeast.

There was a stone wharf on the south shore that provided a convenient mooring point, and James and Alec climbed out of the speedboat to stand on the wharf and stare up the green slope of the island. A neat flagstoned path disappeared into the jungle that tangled around the base of the looming volcano.

At the sound of a gentle chime, James, startled, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ve got a text from an anonymous number,” he said, frowning at the screen. “It’s a link to some urban explorer blog.”

Alec peered over his shoulder. “Urban explorer? Is that hipsters searching for new boutique craft breweries or hand-crafted llama jerky?”

“ _Llama_ jerky?”

“Sure. The hot pepper stuff would obviously be called Drama Llama.” Alec grinned at him in triumph.

James sighed and played along. “Why not Alpacalypse?”

“Entirely different animal,” Alec sniffed. “Do try to keep up, 007.”

James shook his head, reluctantly amused. “Sorry to disappoint. It’s mainly people who explore and document abandoned man-made places.” He clicked the link.

> **Legend of the Mine of Death — the Golden Lure of Elephant Island**
> 
> The Loste Boys are going on another adventure, this time in search of forbidden treasure!
> 
> Elephant Island, as it is referred to in official documents, is a jewel of a jungle isle nestled in the Southern Ocean. The official name supposedly came from its slight resemblance to the ear of an elephant, but the story behind this volcanic island’s real name is a much more twisted tale.
> 
> If you ask any seafarer, they’ll tell you the island is called Scaramanga’s Revenge. Oh, and they’ll warn you to stay far away if you value your life.
> 
> What’s known for sure about this mysterious place is that hidden deep in the jungle is the entrance to a privately-owned gold mine. Now if you’re at all like your faithful chroniclers, you’ll be astonished to learn that gold is often found in extinct or dormant volcanos. Mineral-bearing water is heated by magma until it concentrates and deposits the ore, which can be extracted once the volcano is no longer active.
> 
> What historical records exist show that the mine on Elephant Island provided a steady stream of gold for decades until fairly recently. And here’s where we break down into rumors and bar tales.
> 
> Most of the stories agree that the owner lost it in a rigged card game to a certain Francisco Scaramanga, an international assassin looking to retire (in as much as international assassins ever ‘retire’). Now this Scaramanga, rumored to have grown up in a circus, was apparently so fond of elephants that he’s said to have rescued at least one pachyderm. Depending on the amount of alcohol involved, gossip reports anywhere from one or two to a entire herd (although we also like a parade or a memory of elephants!).
> 
> The stories all agree that Scaramanga brought his elephant(s) to the island and built an elephant-themed temple, concealing the entrance to the mine with the elaborate structure. Why? Listen, friends, if we knew why people did anything, we’d be rich and living on our own island, right?
> 
> Anyway, the tale goes that the previous owner of the mine kidnapped Scaramanga’s elephant(s) in an attempt to force him to give it back. Scaramanga agreed to return ownership of the island in exchange for the safety of his elephant(s), but he booby-trapped the place so thoroughly that the original owner vanished in the depths of the jungle and has never been seen again.
> 
> This has apparently also been the fate of every explorer or expedition ever since.
> 
> Exciting, right? We’ve just arrived at the island and we’re preparing to head into the jungle. We’re posting this now and we’ll update as we go. Wish us luck, urbex community!
> 
> — John and Michael Loste

“There’s no updates after that,” Alec pointed out, watching James scroll.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, Alec.” James closed the web browser and was putting his phone back into his pocket when it chimed again. “Another text?”

“With a reddit link,” Alec said with interest. “Go on. Click it.”

> **r/urbanexploration**
> 
> _u/curiousurbexanon_
> 
> **Has anyone heard from the Loste Boys recently?**
> 
> Last thing posted was that trip to Elephant Island...
> 
> —-
> 
> **87 comments** sorted by **Best**
> 
> **FallInAHole**
> 
> Nah man, no word.
> 
> **dizzydavey745**
> 
> guess Scaramanga’s Revenge  
>  strikes again...
> 
> **curiousurbexanon**
> 
> U serious? R U blaming some  
>  semi-legendary curse?
> 
> **dizzydavey745**
> 
> Chill dude, I’m just SAYIN
> 
> **bando_elf_princess**
> 
> I heard the Coast Guard towed their  
>  empty boat back to harbor.
> 
> ____
> 
> **VIEW ALL 87 COMMENTS**

James’ phone chimed again and the link from that text led to missing persons reports filed for John Loste and Michael Loste.

The next one offered a link to a newspaper website.

> **‘Urban explorers’ still missing**
> 
> John and Michael Loste, self-described urban explorers, remain missing after a trip to Elephant Island, locally known as Scaramanga’s Revenge.
> 
> Urban exploration, or ‘urbex’ as it is sometimes called, is legally iffy at best and lethally dangerous at worst. The consequences for trespassing can range from a fine to jail time, but it is the physical risks posed by deteriorating structures that really prove the lunacy of this practice.
> 
> The staff here at the South Coast Times wish to express their thoughts and prayers for the family of the two young men, and we hope for the best in the case of the Lostes, missing now for several weeks.
> 
> If our worst fears are realized, it does not seem out of place to hope the lesson of the Lostes will serve as a deterrent to others who would engage in this foolish pastime.

Alec made a scornful noise. “ _Someone’s_ got an axe to grind, the prim bastard. ‘Thoughts and prayers’ in the same breath as ‘lesson and deterrent’?”

James shook his head, following the next link, which led him to an urbex subreddit. He scrolled through several screenfuls of roughly sketched elephant statues, floorplans of imaginary temples with suggestions of hidden weaponry that would make any movie spy green with envy, and long-distance drone shots that seemed to be nothing much but blurry swathes of jungle with ambiguous hints of structure that could just as easily have been added with Photoshop.

He clicked out and got another text message that led to a different urban exploration blog.

> **The Legend of the Loste Boys!**
> 
> It’s been five years since John and Michael blogged from the sandy shore of Elephant Island before heading into the interior, never to be heard from again.
> 
> Shocking new government drone footage is rumored to show not only the fabled elephant temple, but also mysterious piles of bones around it. No word on whether there are also piles of gold scattered about, but we think it’s worth a hike!
> 
> We’re gathering a group to travel to the island...

James closed the browser with a disgusted noise. “Scaramanga’s Revenge. Gold mines. Elephant temples. International assassins and card cheats. This is like clickbait for the cheesiest thrillers ever committed to film.”

“I know. It just needs solar cannons or guns made of gold, or a satellite weapon system that delivers destruction by electromagnetic pulses or some such nonsense.” Alec snorted in disdainful amusement at the thought.

James considered, squinting into the middle distance. “How would that even work?”

“What, the satellite weapon system? I don’t know, maybe it could be controlled by a ground-based facility using a massive satellite dish.”

“Why would you need a massive satellite dish? It's just aimed at a something in orbit, not the edges of the universe. You could use one that fit into the boot of a car. Although if you filmed at some place like Arecibo, I suppose you could have a climactic fight scene where someone falls off the edge...” James scowled down at his phone as it chimed again.

“Hey,” Alec said, a delighted grin breaking over his face as he jabbed a finger at James’ phone. “This is that fic style thing! The first one, epistolary!”

“Are you sure?” James looked again at the series of texts. “I thought epistolary was letter-writing.”

Alec pulled out his own phone and tapped rapidly. “Wikipedia says, under _Epistolary novel_ , that electronic documents such as blogs and e-mails have recently come into use.”

“Well, that’s a bloody relief. I was afraid we’d have to do report-writing or poetry or something.”

Alec squinted at the jungle. “If that’s done, are we _required_ to hike in there in search of temples of doom?”

“You don’t feel an overwhelming desire to go tramping into a tangled jungle potentially full of lethal traps set by a vindictive ex-assassin while looking for an apocryphal temple protecting a volcanic gold mine?” James watched him with a fond smile.

Alec gave that a moment’s full consideration before he turned to James with a grin. “Nah, let’s not get distracted with side quests. On to the Red Wizard, 007?”

“After you, 006.”

Their speedboat had discreetly turned into a small luxury yacht while their backs were turned, and Alec shrugged. “Makes sense. It’s a much longer trip along the southern coast to our next destination, if we believe this map. I admit that we looked glamorous in the launch, but,” and here he brightened considerably, “there’s probably vodka on the yacht.”


End file.
